


Of grooming lessons and bath bombs

by nanasekei



Series: Happy Steve Bingo Fills [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, POV Tony Stark, Pet Names, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei
Summary: “Well, I should probably get cleaned up.” He says, lifting himself to sit up on the bed.Steve frowns a little, for a second, when Tony takes his arm off him. It’s a tiny, almost imperceptibly childish reaction, the closest Steve Rogers will ever get to actually pouting, and Tony loves it.“Wanna join me?”





	Of grooming lessons and bath bombs

**Author's Note:**

> For my "Non-Sexual Intimacy" square in the Happy Steve Bingo.

“Ok,” Tony says, panting. “That’s officially as far as I can go.”

On his side, Steve huffs a laugh, similarly breathless. Tony closes his eyes for a minute, basking on the warmth and solidness of his presence before deciding he prefers to turn around to actually see the real thing.

As usual, he’s right. A naked Steve Rogers is one hell of a sight, and a naked Steve Rogers breathing heavily on Tony’s bed, with his body gloriously on display as he gazes half-lidded to the ceiling, is even better. Without thinking, Tony reaches for him, lifting his hand with great effort and splaying it awkwardly over his chest, but Steve immediately shifts so he’s turned towards him too, blue eyes half-lidded as he comes closer, never removing Tony’s arm.

For a moment they just stay there, but Tony is aware that he’s probably going to drift off to sleep soon, and he really doesn’t want Steve to wake up with a sticky sweaty version of Tony clinging to him. “Well, I should probably get cleaned up.” He says, lifting himself to sit up on the bed.

Steve frowns a little, for a second, when Tony takes his arm off him. It’s a tiny, almost imperceptibly childish reaction, the closest Steve Rogers will ever get to actually pouting, and Tony loves it.

“Wanna join me?” The offer jumps out of his lips before he realizes it, and he’s not sure if it’s too much all of a sudden – they’ve never done this before, and Tony knows it’s not everybody’s thing. Still, he’s apparently physically unable to avoid trying to give Steve anything he might ever think of wanting; unable to not keep trying to flood Steve with material reasons to stay at his side; unable to not rip his heart off his chest and lay it on Steve’s hand, bloody and beating, _Here, don’t worry about it, just a little something I thought you might like._

“Yes.” Steve answers quickly. Tony smiles, his brain already going through possibilities. His initial intention had been to just take a quick shower, but now that’s not going to do.

“Friday, get the bathtub ready. The usual, right?” He says, because Friday will know perfectly well it’s _not_ the usual, because she is a blessing. Then he turns to Steve, who’s now watching him more attentively, slightly recovered from his post-sex stupid bliss. “Which smells do you like?”

“What?”

“Smells.” He pats the tip of Steve’s nose with his finger, grinning when Steve’s face scrunches. “Is there one you like in particular? I’m guessing you’re a fan of the traditional ones. So, let me see – I’m thinking maybe lavender, chamomile, maybe a touch of sea salt? Or maybe-“

“I like your smell.” Steve interrupts. “It’s, uh, a bit woody? Or, or oil, I think.”

“I’m not making you a bath smelling like oil.” Tony says, though it does come out less smoothly than he’d like. Steve just _says_ these things, sometimes, and it’s still hard to get used to, hard to not feel his cheeks heating at his words. “You, uh, you’re probably thinking of my cologne. Let’s go with eucalyptus, Friday.”

He lies down again, pulling Steve closer, hands stroking his back and pressing lazy, light kisses against his shoulder. Steve smiles dazedly, running his hands over Tony’s sides, laying his head on the curve of his neck. They’re both sweaty and sticky, so Tony guesses his original intention with the bath is already pointless, but he couldn’t care less.

He almost regrets it, though, when Friday lets him know the bath is ready, because he thinks Steve is almost sleeping.

“Come on, big boy.” He whispers, lifting himself up. Steve lets out a light protesting noise, and Tony grins, pressing a kiss on his forehead, because, God, clingy Captain America will be the death of him, he can already see it, the world ending in the hands of some supervillain because Iron Man was incapable of stopping cuddling with his boyfriend for five seconds.

It’s a funny word, _boyfriend,_ for a man of his age. Not bad, definitely, but a little… Juvenile.

Huh. Almost like a different word would be a better fit. Go figure.

 _Slow down, Stark,_ Tony tells himself. It’s a bit difficult, to know when he’s doing too much. This whole thing with Steve is recent, that’s true, but, technically, it has been going on for almost seven years (since New York, holy shit, he could have had Steve since _New York_ , it still blows his mind to think about it). Still, they’re treading carefully, figuring each other out, finding small details and taking every new step in their relationship with slow, steady caution.

Tony kind of sucks at it, to be honest. But, as it turns out, Steve is also far from an expert, so in a strange way, it works nicely. He guesses it’s a bit stupid, for people around them, to watch them still get surprised at meeting each other’s gaze in public, or Steve’s clothes slowly finding their way to Tony’s closet, or them holding hands and threading fingers under the table like two teenagers hiding from their parents, but, again, to be honest, Tony doesn’t give a fuck.

He also guesses that it’s not exactly normal, the way Steve stops in the doorway when he sees the bathtub, posture tensing like he hasn’t been naked in front of Tony all night. Just a few months ago Tony would have taken it as rejection, but now he just steps forward, entering the bath without staring, letting Steve take his time to get used to the idea of being a part of that scenario.  

Truth be told, the candles are a bit much, Tony has to admit. But he challenges anyone to refuse the chance to see a naked Steve Rogers in candle lights in front of them.

Descending into the bath, Tony inhales slowly. Eucalyptus and just a small touch of sea salt, because Friday is truly brilliant. The water is perfect, just the right amount of warmth taking over his body and relaxing all his muscles, sore from the wonderful memory of fucking a super soldier into the mattress. He sighs, blissfully, before looking at Steve, who’s still frozen in the doorway.

A tinge of uncertainty sparks in Tony’s chest – the candles _are_ too fucking much, what was he _thinking,_ he should just, just… But he tries to ignore the doubt, giving Steve a small smile. “Changed your mind?”

“No.” Steve answers immediately, blinking. He walks towards the bathtub, slowly walking in and lowering himself next to Tony. He takes a sharp breath as the warm water covers his body, blue eyes finding Tony’s and darting around for a moment before turning to him again. “It’s just – this – you’re really beautiful.”

Tony’s face feels hot, warmth travelling all over his body. He’s received tons of compliments on his appearance through life, but, approaching his fifties, it’s usually something along the lines of handsome, charming, sexy – _beautiful_ is one of those completely unfair, uniquely Steve Rogers things, that only he can say in a way that sounds just too damn sincere for Tony to be able to roll his eyes and give a sarcastic response. “Thank you.”

Steve smiles a little, posture still too rigid for the situation they’re in, and for a moment they just sit there in the most unnecessarily romantic bath of all time, not entirely sure of what to do next.

They’re really fucking bad at this.

Tony sighs, a wave of affection coming over his chest. “Come here, soldier.” He says, voice light. Steve scoots closer. He looks stunning, the candles casting a light glow on his pale skin, golden reflexes on his hair and beard. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He reaches for the body scrub, spreading a little on his own hands. He should probably use the sponge, but, honestly, he’s already craving touching Steve, running his fingers all over him. He takes his hand up to Steve’s face. “Here, take a sniff.”

Steve’s nostrils widen and he smiles, seeming a bit amused. “Coconut?”

“Oh my God.” Tony says, shaking his head in false mockery. “I keep forgetting you lived the past two years as a runway hobo.” Steve huffs out a laugh, because of course Tony doesn’t, but it’s a relief now, to be able to just casually mention it, throw it out there without tension rising between them. “You’re probably the only person in the world who hasn’t figured out coconut oil works for everything, and also causes cancer, or cures cancer, I’m not sure.”

“We’ll take the risk.” Steve replies, and Tony takes it as permission to start running his hands over those glorious arms, spreading the scrub with light circles all over Steve’s chest and shoulders. Steve melts into the touches, closing his eyes, as Tony’s fingers trace the admittedly _ridiculous_ number of marks and love bites he left. Unable to resist, he leans forward and presses a light kiss on a particularly red spot above Steve’s collarbone, and the way Steve hums in response, letting him worry at the mark for a moment, would be enough to make him hard again, if he hadn’t been completely worn out for the night already. He keeps working his way over Steve’s chest, the thought of how soft and warm his skin will be when he washes it off making his heart flutter.

Then Tony’s hands go to his legs, and Steve’s eyes widen abruptly. “You don’t have to-“

“I want to.” Tony runs his hands over his thighs, also filled with a ton of marks. “God, I really did a number on you this time.”

“You could always stand to do more.” Steve says, almost _cheekily,_ and Tony can’t help but smile in wonder. Brattish Steve is his favorite, because it only comes out very rarely, when Steve is completely relaxed.

“Oh, really? Funny, because I seem to remember a different tone – something along the lines of _God, please, Tony, I can’t take it any longer, please, just –_ “

He’s cut short by Steve _splashing_ some water over him, a small wave hitting him right on the face, sprinkles of water hitting his hair.

For a second Steve just stares at him, seeming shocked with himself, when a lock of Tony’s now wet hair falls over his forehead and he bursts into a surprised, big laugh.

“Ok,” Tony says, trying and failing to suppress a giant, stupid grin of his own. “Ok, that’s a change of plans, then. Come here, you.” He purrs, voice low and syrupy as he cups Steve’s face. Steve lets himself being led on, eyes half-lidded going to Tony’s mouth, and, in one of the lowest moves of his life, Tony deliberately licks his lips before shifting his body to push Steve’s head under the water.

“ _Tony!_ ” Steve exclaims, immediately surfacing, hands rubbing his eyes, blinking quickly. But even then Tony can see the same silly laugh still on his lips, and he can’t help but lean in and really kiss him now, enjoying Steve’s soft lips wet and warm from the water.

When he pulls back, Steve is trying his best to give him the Captain America Glare of Disapproval, but he’s failing epically. “Oh, come on.” Tony says, pressing a series of pecks on that red, perfect mouth. “Look at the bright side, now I get to wash your hair.”

Steve actually _flushes,_ which, if he’s trying to get Tony to stop kissing him, is really not the way to go. “You don’t have to do that.” He whispers, his words cut between presses of Tony’s mouth, finally shutting up when Tony lets one final kiss grow deeper, lips parting obediently for Tony’s tongue to find his.

“I want to.” Tony breathes when they pull apart. Then, to his absolute horror, Steve reaches for the soap. “Please, tell me you’re joking.”

Steve has the gall to look confused. “Why would I be joking?”

“You wash your hair with _soap?_ ” He blinks for a moment, scandalized. “I – How - We had shampoo in the 40s! What is your excuse?”

“It’s… Faster?” Steve shrugs, as if that explains everything.

“I cannot believe – wait, have you _always_ done this?” He picks one lock of Steve’s hair between his fingers, as if holding the proof of a crime. “Is this how your hair looks after a lifetime of being washed with soap?” _How is this remotely fair,_ Tony wonders, but he’s not nearly as annoyed as his voice sounds. In fact, he feels a bit thrilled. He never really tires of this, of finding out small details about Steve, tiny parts of him that stay hidden from the world not because he buries it, but because no one has ever been close enough to see them.

“It’s soap, Tony. It’s clean.”

Tony runs a hand over his face, exaggeratedly. He picks up the shampoo bottle. “Ok, haircare lesson. Whenever you wash your hair – wait. How often _do_ you wash your hair?”

Steve frowns, which makes his nose scrunch, which is ridiculously cute and not fair because at the moment Tony should be busy worrying about his terrible lack of grooming skills. “Everyday?”

“Oh my God.” Tony breathes. “We just discovered a new side effect of the serum: It’s what’s keeping these golden locks of yours alive after all these years.” Steve rolls his eyes, and Tony takes a little bit of shampoo on his hand. “Here, that’s the amount you want to use. _Not_ everyday.” He stresses, rubbing his hands together. “You should wash it one, two times a week. Three times, tops.”

Steve opens his mouth to argue, but before he can say anything, Tony’s fingers are already on his hair, massaging his scalp, and he melts into the touch. Tony feels himself smiling. Steve is always so tense, anything is enough to make him feel dazed. Tony works his way over his head, hands massaging carefully and gently.

“You want to use only the tip of your fingers, never your fingernails.” He keeps massaging with one hand, using the other one to pick up the shower hose.

“How am I supposed to shower without washing my hair?” Steve asks, voice low and soft as Tony pushes his neck a little. He leans his head back as Tony rinses the shampoo off his hair. His eyes are still closed, and Tony marvels at his eyelashes, at his flushed cheeks, at how pink his lips look against his beard.

“That’s what shower caps are for, baby.” Tony whispers, his voice embarrassingly fond, noticing how Steve’s mouth curves in a smile. “Like the idea? I’ll get you an Iron Man one.”

“No, uh. I. I like it when you call me that.” Steve says, so soft and shy Tony can actually feel his heart melting. He leans forward, hands on Steve’s waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as he finishes washing his hair.

“You do, yeah?” Tony picks up another bottle. “That’s conditioner, baby. You use it after the shampoo, but only once a week, ok? Anything else is just gonna damage your hair, honey.” Steve huffs out a laugh, and Tony applies the conditioner, leaning forward and hugging his waist afterwards. “Honey, darling, baby, sweetheart, sugar…”

“Shut up.” Steve says, laughing, but his face is all flushed, and Tony feels giddy as he presses a few kisses on the back of his neck. Steve Rogers, easily turned into a puddle over pet names. _Who’d know,_  Tony thinks, and then, with no small amount of wonder: _I know._

“Pumpkin.” Tony continues, enjoying the way Steve’s body shakes with laughter. “Light of my life, my angel, my-“ He almost says _my love_ just like that, without thinking, biting back at the last minute, a bit shocked with himself.

Steve, not noticing his hesitation, just leans back, head at Tony’s shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.” He says, voice full of affection, and Tony rinses the conditioner off his hair. When he finishes, Steve turns around, blue eyes bright and excited: “Could I… Could I do yours? Someday.” He adds, quickly. Hesitant, Tony notices. He knows the feeling – Steve’s hands tightening for a moment on his hips before he immediately loosens them, nervously asking if it hurt; his voice when he whispers Tony’s name in bed, strangled and broken; the way his fingers brush over the reactor sometimes, so light Tony almost doesn’t feel it, as if he doesn’t trust himself to not break it again.

“Why not now?” Tony responds, taking the shampoo bottle and handing it to him.

He turns around, waiting to feel Steve’s big, warm hands on his scalp, but instead he feels the tip of his fingers, extremely careful and slow. Distantly, Tony wonders if he’s wanted to do this for a while.

“Your hair is really soft.” Steve whispers, and Tony closes his eyes, melting into the touch. Steve takes a lot longer than necessary with the process, rinsing Tony’s head so lightly it almost feels like he’s washing lock by lock. Tony smiles, dazed, as he lets him do it.

When Steve finishes, Tony stays in place, feeling his arms around his waist, leaning back against his shoulder.

“Thank you. This – this is really great.” Steve says into his ear. Tony turns his head to kiss his jaw.

“Just a bath, sugar plum.” Steve pinches him. Tony laughs. “No, seriously, aside from the fragrance choice, this is pretty much how my regular bath goes.” Steve hums, not buying it in the slightest, but that’s ok, because Tony doesn’t really want him to. “Usually I’d add a bath bomb, but that’s a bit too Pinterest-y for your hot-blooded sensibilities…”

“A _what_?”

“You’ve never used it? Seriously? Rhodey is obsessed with those things, he has a collection and everything, it’s a huge secret and therefore I’ve never told you that.” Steve laughs, but he’s still looking at him a little confusedly, so Tony snaps his fingers. “Friday, give me a bath bomb. Uh, let me see, maybe a… A rainbow one?”

Steve’s eyes are wide against his. “ _Rainbow?_ ”

Friday helpfully drops the bath bomb, through the same system that used to deliver Tony champagne, years ago, when he only used this tub in the company of more than one person he didn’t know the name of. “Here.” He says, handing it to Steve. “Just drop it and see.”

Steve does it, and for a moment they both watch as the colors spread through the water. The smell is nice, Tony guesses, and the rainbow in itself is not so bad either, but he’s entirely focused on Steve’s face, on his wide eyes as he watches the process with childlike wonder. He looks happy, excited, and it’s such a different look from what he’s grown used to seeing on Steve’s face. Beard and everything, he still looks so much _younger,_ and Tony’s heart aches, because, really, he was already completely gone for Steve when Steve kept himself shut off to him, so now that he’s managing to open up, little by little, Tony doesn’t even stand a chance, love bursting and growing inside his chest so much it feels hard to breathe.

“Wow.” Steve says, and Tony is aware that it’s a very private thing, the happiness he’s seeing right now, that it’s something maybe even Steve didn’t know he could find in himself, and it hits him deeply, how much he wants this, how he’ll always want this.

“Yeah.” Tony blurts.

“It really is a rainbow.” Steve says, smile wide and bright, and he actually moves his hand a little, playing with the colors like a kid. Tony, showing a respectable amount of self-restraint, doesn’t order Friday to immediately buy Lush.

“Yeah.” He repeats, and Steve comes closer, wrapping his arms around his waist again, chin on Tony’s shoulder.

“This is definitely not how your regular bath goes.” He whispers, kissing Tony’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Tony leans back, hands finding Steve’s, gently removing one of them from his waist and cradling between his own. He touches Steve’s fingers carefully, enjoying the feel of his heartbeat against his back, the sound of his breath.

 _He’s mine,_ he thinks, head spinning. _He really is mine._

“Tony?” Steve asks, after a long stretch of silence. “Everything okay?”

“Uh?” Tony blinks, dazed. He runs his thumbs over Steve’s palm. “Yeah, just – Hm. You… You have a beautiful hand.”

Against his skin, he can feel Steve’s smile. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” Tony whispers, softly. He turns his head slightly, resting his forehead against Steve’s cheek, mouth moving against his face as he grins. “Just… Yeah. Really, really great hand.”

It’s gonna look even better with a ring.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading it! As always, I'd love to hear what you think. You can also find me at [my tumblr](elcorhamletlive.tumblr.com).


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